Living on Borrowed Time
by PolarNegativeZero
Summary: After having been tossed into an unknown world, a Churchill and his confusing companion, a StuG IV wander around the unknown area, meeting new people and seeing new and unique sights. Teen for swearing and violence. (edit: This is so old, the story/plot itself is lost on me. I'll try to continue this with my shit keyboard. I need a drink. )
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

_**Living on Borrowed Time**_

 **Chapter One: Introduction**

 _By PolarNegetiveZero_

I'll be honest here; I wasn't expecting my morning to go like this. Wake up, possibly late and in a rush, jog to my ramshackle mess hall, grab a can and drink it before doing my daily rounds. I also imagined my day would go along the lines of normal. You know, as normal as I could be before the world went to shit. Might 'a gone and found a few other scavvies (That's an abbreviation for Scavengers, as we're known by actual teams and Clans) and done a training, maybe not. I might not ever know, since my track is destroyed and my engine is damaged. As you should know, Churchill Mark One's don't get ANYWHERE with damaged engines. This is regardless of the fact that, whether I'm facing downhill or uphill, I go absolutely no-where.

Oh yeah, I'm a tank. Not a very common sight from where I'm at, since everything is totally shy and the woods around me are completely devoid of life other than plants and trees. It's a little unnerving, seeing random trees and bushes that are actually green instead of bushes that are black or yellow. This place is nothing like The Gorge. Oh yeah, the place that I scavenge from is called the Gorge by Clanners. Guys like them aren't ever nice. Doesn't matter who you meet, they'll be either assholes or liars. It depends on your preference. Me, I prefer the assholes. At least they don't try to kidnap and sell you to slave-tanks. They'll be straight up with you, and even then, not all of them are this way. But it's better to assume than wonder. Scavenging taught me that. This kept me alive through my lower tiers. I'm not even that high a tier, only tier 5. I'm teetering on the edge of 5 and 6. I like my tier 5 chassis, but the 6 gets a better health-pool, increasing my chances of survival and gives me a better gun. But it'd be like trying to start my engine for the first time: It'll be hard to adjust and get used to.

Enough of thinking, it's time for action. I open up my optics, and move them around the terrain a bit. There are STILL no animals. _And just when hope is on the horizon, Murphy strikes again._ Oh, you don't know Murphy? He's that son-of-a-bitch who waits until exactly the right moment to fuck you over and demoralize you. I fucking hate Murphy. But, he does what he wants, and I'm just trying to get by. After I move my optics around a bit, I swivel my turret, the thing creaking without any grease for a while. But I used all my internal grease to keep my engine from overheating and killing me in my sleep. I might even be able to move around with it in a bit. Huh, maybe I could make it to those smoke-things-whatever's. There might be a Clan that'd take pity on a lone Scavenger like me. Hey, I might be a-

There's a bird perched on my 75 mm gun.

Why-What? That's…well, damn. I swivel my gun around a little more, eventually giving the bird the message: _Hey, dude, stay off of my gun. I need it._ The little bird flew around me, and settled on top of my turret. I groaned inwardly, hoping that he didn't mark me with his foulness. Thankfully, Murphy was going to leave me enough alone. The bird made a nest on top of my Commander's Cupola, but he didn't – or she, I can't tell – didn't crap on me or anything. _That's the best I can hope for, right?_

So, I kept moving my turret around until the creaking noise stopped whenever I turned a little, only when I turned a lot. I tried moving my tank, and felt surprised when my engine thrummed with energy. Must've drunk more gas last night than I realize, but in this situation, I ain't complaining. I gave my engine a nudge, and it moved my right track forward, but it spun me left, making me remember my damaged track. _Shit. I thought this thing would fix itself overnight!_ This posed me a problem. If I used my grease to repair my track, I might overheat my engine and basically kill myself via fire. Or, I can stay here until I convince myself to go along with the original plan except with a whole lot less gas.

That last sentence was enough for me to focus my grease on my track, trying to ignore the small whine my engine gave when it realized it was on its own for now. I give a test call on my radio, sending out a simple signal. "This is a scavenger, checking position. Is anyone there?" I decided not to use my name on a whim that someone might try to insinuate knowing me from before and get me killed. I waited about half a minute, and then began getting impatient, checked on my track and grease levels.

Well, shit. Grease levels are lower than I expected, but my track isn't badly damaged and looks brand new. I focused the remaining grease on keeping my engine cooled and me alive. I guess that's one way to stay alive. I tried sending a burst of speed to my tracks, and was astonished by how quickly they responded after having been greased up again. _Not to self; Grease tracks every so often for responsiveness to improve._ I sent a message to my engine telling it to get us moving, and it gave all it had, sending us moving to a pace that steadied out at 15 kph.

After about a minute of travelling with focusing on trying to find some sort of landmark, I became bored and let my chassis do the thinking for me so I could concentrate on something else, like remembering my past. I started as a Medium One, an okay tank by many standards. I only used the upgrader once I'd spent about three training matches with the other Tier I's. At that point, I was fully upgraded and hungry to move on, to become better, to TANK more. It was in everyone's blood, from the day they are brought into this world to the day they are forced out – Whether by sickness or cannon-fire – We all live to move up the tiers until we are tier 10, the best of the best. I moved to the Medium Two, and then the three. This was the point that I'd been kicked out of my original team, because I was just so ugly-looking. Looking back from the present, I can see why they thought I looked stupid beyond all belief, but I was a child back then, not a relatively-experienced Heavy as I am now. When I hit the Matilda, I became a happier tank again. That Quarter Pounder mark Ten B was the best gun I'd ever had. It sucks that I can't find any other tanks that use it.

After the Matilda, I became a Churchill. Being stock as a Churchill Mark One was living hell. The stock turret might be more armored, but it had a TERRIBLE gun selection. I had the choice between the same howitzer you get on the Cruiser II, and the same gun I'd had on the Medium. I used the howitzer, as it gave me a chance – A very small one, mind you, but a chance all the same – and eventually made it to where I am now.

Which reminds me, where the hell did Murphy send me?

 **To note to everyone whom is reading this, I think of this as an experiment, to test the waters of the writing community and see if it's warm enough for me. If it isn't, then I back off and go back to being a reader. If it is, and people start to like my stuff, then I'll debate with myself about continuing. Until that point is hit, I'll keep experimenting with this kind of "kind-sorta-not-really" writing.**

 **Wrote at 11:45 to 12:22 AM whilst waiting on my World of Tanks 9.8 download, so that's why it's a Tank thing. Nyeeeeah.**


	2. Chapter 2: A Friend

_**Living on Borrowed Time**_

 **Chapter Two: A Friend**

 _By PolarNegetiveZero_

I've been chugging along for a while now – kind of like those old locomotives from before the Shell hit – and I've noticed something behind me that's been following for a while now. I'm not exactly concerned, since it sounds like a German tier three. However, I won't rule out the possibility that it might be an ambush, so I'm staying on edge until it goes away, or until the trap springs. I have a feeling it'll be soon, as it was originally about a quarter of a mile out, now it sounds like its fifty meters away. Swinging my turret to face my engine deck, I peer through the foliage surrounding the roadside, rewarded with a glimpse of gray metal – A cannon barrel, about thirty meters behind me, and not facing me. Perfect.

I then rotate my tank until I'm sideways on to the road, and begin backing into the side opposite of where I was the barrel. I kill my engine, and keep backing up until only my gun is visible, and only a close range. I stay on edge for about three minutes, but my mind begins to wander anyways, thinking back on my life before the Shell hit. The Shell was the mechanism that gave tank sentience. It hit in Northwestern Europe, and spread across the globe. I wasn't born at this point, but a Conqueror in my old team had told me about the event. It intrigued me more than my current predicament, so much that I almost was found because of my idleness.

The StuG IV was nearly nose-to-nose with me, facing to my right, giving a low growl with its engine as it swept the road back and forth. I assumed that it was trying to find me, and this was confirmed by the muttering of finding that "Churchie". My irrational half wanted to plant a shot right into the engine deck of the – Now female – StuG, but I held my temper in check and watched for what might happen. The StuG was now in a minor panic, speaking aloud to calm herself. "Don't worry. Just find that Churchie, and he'll help you." I wasn't so sure of that myself, but I debated with myself about showing my position, but rationality won out, making me stay hidden. It was only for the moment, anyways. I couldn't stay here forever. She eventually worked herself up even more, and started giving her engine more fuel to go faster as she tried seeing where I'd went up the road.

I started my engine once more, confused at this behavior. _Maybe I should have shown myself, or at least planted a shot across to get her to back off._ I shrugged, giving my engine fuel and telling it to march me forward on the road. I internally checked my grease levels, alarmed at how much it had taken to start my engine again. The StuG might have a repair kit or at least some extra grease on hand… I decided to get her attention the only way I knew how, and that was using a shot to clear the area of even more wildlife.

The HE shot that I fired rocketed up into the air, disappearing from view of my optics after a moment. I sat back, in the middle of the road, and waited. I wasn't disappointed, for I could hear another engine over the sound of my own, the tenor growl of the German engine making me internally cock my head and wonder. But that lasted all of a moment, as she soon came into view on the side of the road, in the bushes. I pretended to look the other way, as I was feeling shy due to my scavenger behavior. Eventually, she came out into the road, and I continued to pretend to ignore her, humming an old song from before the Shell; My Country, Tis of Thee. Finally, she spoke: "Hi." I rotated both my turret and gun to get a fix on where her gun was, unconsciously aiming for her cannon breech to destroy the gun if I needed to. I looked at her through my optics, and internally grimaced. She was in as bad a shape as I was. Gun barrel heavily damaged without some serious grease – more than my engine needed – and her optics were damaged, as were both of her tracks. I gave a little wave of my gun, and spoke aloud for the first time in a while.

"Hi. Do you know your way around this place? I ask, because I don't." My voice came out of my turret like a horse after sickness, crackly and hoarse. I cleared my radio and repeated the message, much clearer this time. I spoke in a tenor voice, with a touch of baritone, while hers was definitely an alto, with about a quarter of tenor in there. Of course, this included the Germanic accent she spoke in, making it relatively tenor-ish more. All this took place in my head, and I didn't hear her response. "I'm sorry; I was thinking about something, could you repeat that?" I say, slightly embarrassed at my social fuck-up. She didn't seem to notice, and repeated "No, I don't. In fact, I was following you since you seemed to know your way around." She seems embarrassed as well, making me feel a bit of pity for her. I said nothing for a moment, and then blurted out:

"Do you want to travel together?" She looked at me sharply after this, and I waved with my cannon barrel, trying to dispel her suspicions. "No, not like that, I mean, we're both in- I mean, we're both lost and I thought- Well, maybe we should stick together?" I stumbled over my words as I tried to explain the half-baked idea, and eventually get the message to her. She looks at me for a few seconds, and then shakes her cannon barrel up and down, making me internally sigh with relief. Truth be told, I just didn't want to be alone with my mind anymore. It scared me sometimes.

I nodded back at her, and rotated my tank back down the way I had been going before getting sidetracked by her, letting her get alongside me before feeding my engine fuel and getting myself moving. "What's your name?" I ask, slightly curious but also trying to break the awkward silence between us. She eagerly seizes the lifeline I give her, stating "Ensighein. Most people call me Sig. What's yours?" She gives me a questioning look after saying that, and I stare at her, stumbling over my words again. "I… I never really needed a name, being a scavenger." I went silent as she took this information in, and then said "Call me Jay." I'd looked around for something for her to call me with, remembering the bird that had been on my turret a while ago. He'd left after I'd started my engine.

Well, I made a new friend today. Better now than never, huh?

 **Well, I had fun writing it last night, so I did it again tonight. I'll be honest, Fulfilling my dream of being a legitimate writer makes me happy, even if nobody reads or reviews my story. I'm continuing the experiment now, and I have the basic plot laid out. I write the details as I go, making corrections for ideas I assume are brilliant from when they appear like lightning into my head.**

 **So, cheers.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Trip

**Living on Borrowed Time**

Chapter Three: The Trip

 _By PolarNegetiveZero_

After trading names, we fell into a silence. It wasn't tense, more of a thoughtful one, in the way that we were both too busy with our own thoughts to talk to each-other. I was thinking about my new companion, and tactics that we could use if ambushed. At first, I was going to let her back off while I go sideways, covering her from view whilst I take the hits with my armor and larger lifespan (HP). However, I noticed the flaw in that plan rather quickly, and decided to change it so that she was alongside me, and I had my front facing them, with my right track covering her driver's hatch, giving away less weak spots on her and forcing them to shoot me, my armored front, or her angled gun mantlet.

Satisfied with my plan for the moment, I started trying to remember why I got in such bad condition, but it was like a brick wall in my mind. Felt like drinking 110 octane fuel for a day straight and then drinking myself into oblivion before waking up and doing it again, then rocketing myself into that forest. Speaking of that, what the hell had made my track so badly damaged it was destroyed? It looked like it'd taken a direct hit from a J-Panzer E-100 and then set on fire with crude oil. Speaking of my track, I thought back to my grease levels, and felt slightly alarmed by its levels. It was low enough to endure the shame of asking. "Excuse me…Sig, do you have any extra grease?" It took me a moment to remember her nickname, but I got it.

"No, I've been using most of it on my gun and my optics. Why'd you ask?" She responded, along with a questioning look to complete the feel. "I'm running low myself. Greasing my damaged track back to a usable state took a lot out of me, so I'll have to sleep to get more rather soon. Here's to hoping we hit a clan or a town soon, eh?" I tried to make light of the situation, telling myself that if we found a clan, I'd do whatever it took to get us in and some fuel and a rest and shelter and…

And I needed to stop making a list of hopes and expectations before they're crushed. A good lesson I learned whilst I was a Medium Three was that if you lower you expectations to the point of crudity, they will be broken and you will be pleasantly surprised. The most I SHOULD hope for is some cover between me and the rest of the world. That is, not including my new companion, of course. My curiosity started rising, so I threw it a bone and spoke again.

"So, Sig. What's your story?" I asked, rather curious about how she managed to get the new chassis and about her in general. She responded with a long winded explanation. "I was German from creation, and I saw no reason to change. I was originally going up the WT E-100 line, but I found this chassis lying around at a fuel depot. The guy selling it sold it to me dirt cheap, but the actual chassis itself was in bad repair. I found some scrap, and had another tank attach the scrap to me, armoring me up a bit. I also thought that it looked a little intimidating, all of the patches looking like patched-up shell holes." She seemed to be blushing a bit by the end there, and I gave her a nod to show that I wasn't trying to make fun of her, only to be polite. "Jay, what's YOUR story?"

I thought a bit, debating whether or not to lie, and I shrugged, deciding not to. "Well, I was a Medium One, and I'd wanted to become the FV 215 (b), so I started working my way up the line. I was actually part of a team, but by the time I'd become a medium three, they all thought I looked too weird to be a normal tank, so I was kicked out. I don't blame them, but it still left a scar. After I became a Matilda, I was a proper scavenger, looking after myself and getting my own fuel. I know a bit about what to do in these kinds of situations, so I'm not really panicking. Life as a Churchill has been good to me, so I don't really want to give it up to a tier 6." I explain my story, in less depth and detail than I had whilst reviewing it to myself, to her. I couldn't properly gauge her reaction, but from her response, she sounded a little less flustered, more curious. "Why not find a different line after getting kicked out?" She asked, slightly saddened that that had ever happened.

I'd already gotten over it, so I wasn't sad, wiser because of it. "I'd reasoned with myself at the time about doing just that, but I felt that I'd worked so hard at it that I'd just stick with it and hope Murphy didn't tear me a new one because of this." She seemed to understand who Murphy was, because she nodded sympathetically. I was, however, digging for inconsistencies and found one in her explanation. "Speaking of which, you never mentioned a team. It makes me ask if you were a part of one." She nodded, and started doing that sort of "Curling inward to not be questioned about this in particular" expression, but answered anyway. "It's because I accidentally team damaged one of my teammates while in combat. It wasn't his fault, I just took a shot without checking my surroundings, and he walked into it. It didn't kill him, but it destroyed his engine and crippled his tracks as well. He had to be put down anyways." This stopped me short, making me process this with all of my mind power. I didn't feel too in-danger because of her story, nor did I ever except when I didn't know what she wanted.

I then saw a glimpse of something ahead of us. Faint, but not faint enough for my optics. I zoomed in as much as possible, and saw it again. I started to hear a low roar coming from the sky, and I stopped to get a clearer view of it. It seemed to be a flying object… Maybe it was a plane? "Hey, Sig, come back here. Zoom with your optics as much as possible where I'm pointing. She reversed back to me, and followed my instructions; giving a low "Hmm." as she saw what I did. We waited for about thirty seconds before I sighed, and zoomed out of my optics, nudging her to do the same. "We should get moving. That could be a bomber, or a GAF. A GAF is a Ground Attack Fighter, made for decimating fortified positions and armored targets; in this instance, tanks. I started rolling away from the road, trying to find a forest.

"Jay! Over here!" I rotated my optics and turret to look at the StuG. A large collection of bushes and rocks clumped together formed a sort of hide that we could sit inside of. "Good find, Sig. Let me go in first, because you won't have a turret to peek over me." I rumbled over, rotating the body of my tank until my back was facing the bushes. I then reversed until my tank was completely hidden from view. That is, except, I could feel it sloping downwards. "Sig! Hold still, this thing might go underground!" I rolled forward, and rotated my front so that it faced the bushes and rocks, rolling forward. I was soon seen as correct, as a large tunnel opened up near the bottom, obviously artificial. "Yeah, come down here, Sig! There's a tunnel we can use!" I rolled into the tunnel, lit with electric lights, waiting until I heard Sig roll up behind me.

Well, what have we here?

 **I think I'm starting to get a little attention from the WoT community. Not much, mind you, but enough to make me happy. Just so everyone knows, I might update the story randomly, and if I skip a day, I'll upload two on the same day to make up for it. This will be a LONG story, no trip-skipping.**

 **This chapter was an example of "NO TRIP SKIPPING". This was originally supposed to be them going into a town at the end, but I came up with a tunnel a few sentences after I used the bushes.**

 **Review the story and put any ideas or comments you have about the story in there, criticism especially. Constructive, please, not blind hate.**

 **I'm off to pass the frig out.**


	4. Chapter 4: Underground

**Living on Borrowed Time**

Chapter Four: Underground

 _By PolarNegetiveZero_

The electric lighting in this place was far more advanced than I had back at home. My home being the eastern edge of Ruinberg, as it was called. I don't know what the real name of it was, but everyone called it Ruinberg – for obvious reasons – and so it stuck. My home was a pretty shabby little thing, but it was enough to be pleasant and nice to live in. It was a one-man garage, looking like something straight out of a movie; clean, orderly, and so unlike my tank right now. Speaking of, I needed to give myself a wash before I become particularly disgusting like after I was kicked from my team as a Medium Three.

Augh, just remembering that time makes me want to vomit. Then again, so did my general appearance, but that time especially so. I was automatically cleaned when I tiered up, and kept a better appearance than I had before. In fact, one such memory still has me chuckling to this day. I'll tell it to you while we drive in this one-way tunnel.

 _Having just been cleaned naught but a few days ago, I noticed my armor becoming rusty and grimy. However, I'd liked my new body, so I was becoming just a teensy-weensy bit obsessed with keeping myself clean. Except the tracks, of course, because those are bound to get dirty. Anyways, I was travelling through the flat, field-like area between Himmelsdorf and Ruinberg, trying to head to Ruinberg to scavenge some new supplies, when I came across a little Pz. III A. He'd been in a similar jam as me, being that he wasn't that powerful and looked so unusual. I assume he had also been kicked off his team as well, because he travelled alone. Of course, he shot me, but he didn't penetrate me. My armor was not only angled at the front, but also too thick for me to remember._

 _He looked like hell, tracks all muddy and torn to hell, and his armor was rusted and shelled. It was a miracle by itself that he'd taken so many shells and was still living. We travelled together for a time, me looking out for him. I made him start scrubbing himself down with sand and river water whenever we could find either. About three days later, he was looking clean and especially shiny after having just moved through a river. He was – this – close to tiering up to the D.W.2, giving him a better chance. We got into a fight with another pair of scavengers, both of them tier threes. It was a Pz. II G and a T-46. Both were fully upgraded, but so was I, so I took the liberty of trying to talk to them._

 _Being shot in the gun mantlet didn't do much to help them make friends with me. So, I shot back. I fired at the Pz. II G, my gun piercing his turret armor and going straight through, damaging only his radio, and that was all. But it did make him reconsider his options after he fired his full clip of shells at me with no effect whatsoever. His friend, however, did not. He had the VT-42 gun, making him dangerously effective. He fired at my upper hull, bouncing the shot upwards. I fired at him twice, killing off his track and hitting him right in the turret rink. His turret was locked in place, and he started to panic. He panicked to the point of unloading a HE shot at me, making me focus and get serious._

 _That is, until he exploded. At this, I'd blinked, and tried to remember if I'd fired my gun, but I couldn't tell. Later, my friend in the Pz. III A would tell me that he got a lucky hit on the ammo-rack of the T-46, taking his turret clean off. I saw it with my own optics and I still haven't a clue how he got around them without being spotted. He fired at the Pz. II G, making him panic as well, since he didn't know where the fire was coming from. The shot from the Pz. III A had pierced the back of his turret, killing his optics and making him blind. It was the best damned shooting I've ever seen from a Panzer like him, and he was proud to. He eventually tiered up to a D.W.2, and decided to strike out on his own. We wished each other good luck, and to this day, I hope he's a VK 30.01 H. That was his dream, to become a Tiger I. But, enough of my memories, let's try and focus on the situation at hand._

The tunnel had widened, letting me and Sig travel side-by-side. We'd not spoken for a while, and I tried to see if I could see anything ahead of us. But the unusual lighting, being that it was unevenly spread around, made it hard for me to see properly, so I gave up. After about a minute of this, I sighed, and said "this is really fuckin' boring. Nothing to do except for keep our tracks moving." She made a noise of agreement, thrumming her engine a bit louder in a sort of purr. However, I could now detect another engine ahead of us. It was Russian, making the back of my head panic slightly, as that gave us some implications of where we were.

There was a large, rounded antechamber at the end of our tunnel, and it led off into several different tunnels. I could only hear the Russian engine, so I tried to follow it. I was rewarded with a sleeping SU-85. This guy also looked like he'd been through hell and back, except a little cleaner, less grimy, more dirty. I say dirty as in he was covered in the stuff, instead of oil, grease, and gas. Made him look like he had a sort of camouflage on, made for underground. Sig was behind me, waiting, so I reversed until we were side-by-side again. "There's an SU-85 sleeping in there. Open a private channel so we can talk normally, please." I whispered to her. She nodded, and opened the channel, quieting my words. "He's dirty as hell, looks like he's been through the same shit we have." She said to me, musing. "Also, it looks like he's got a sort of… Wait a minute, did you check to see if he was wearing a clan patch?" She asked, and I shook my turret no. I moved back into the little antechamber, checking his upper hull for a patch, being rewarded with a back gas-mask on a yellow shield. It said "Tsentral'nyy gorod". I wasn't sure what the first part meant, but I knew that "gorod" was a rough translation of town. So, it looked like he was part of either a guard post or a town.

Both were good in our situation, so I reversed back and explained it to Sig. she looked thoughtful for a moment, and then told me "Hey, I'm going to fire some HE in the tunnel behind us. Make sure that you have you gun to his engine compartment when he wakes and goes looking for it." I nodded. It seemed like a solid enough plan, so I'd go with it. She reversed, and then turned her hull so that she was facing the SU-85's antechamber. She fired, the shell going directly above the chamber roof. It was enough to wake him up though, because he gave a rev of his engine and started moving out of the antechamber, loading ammunition.

I poked him in the side with my 75mm gun, and that made him reconsider. He stopped moving, and Sig came out of the tunnel as well, gun trained on him. "Hi. We're looking for shelter. Got someplace we can stay?" I asked, backing up a bit to give him some room. After all, it's polite to let the person you just put a gun to move around a bit, you know? "Who are you?" he asked me, then turned to Sig, and said it again. I shook my gun, and said "No, we won't give our names yet until you answer the question." He seemed a bit put out, and said "Yes. Some place to stay. Is called Central Town. Is underground. Mostly Russian tenks, but also German, American, French tenks. I am guard for Town. I show you way?" He said, giving me a questioning glance with his last sentence.

I looked at Sig, she shrugged, and so did I, letting him have a little more room, enough for him to turn around. "Yeah, sure. Just don't try and get us killed, will you? I rather like my chassis the way it is, no extra shell holes in it."

Well, we've found civilization. Of a sort.

 **Sorry about not uploading last night (The day after I say I'll be uploading every night, yep) but I had my computer taken away after I was found typing. At 12 Am. Yeah, that kinda ticked off my parents. But, I've got the chapter uploaded (Hopefully with a little more character development, MR. Scarface) and I'll have another one tomorrow. The reason why I don't give the characters much development is because I want to let my viewers (What people who actually follow the story) project themselves into this situation, without using 2nd-person. Because that is both really hard to write and oftentimes really BORING. Which is exactly the opposite of what I want.**

 **So, good night, everyone. Don't get woken up at gunpoint by a Churchill I.**


	5. Chapter 5: Central Town

**Living on Borrowed Time**

Chapter Five: Central Town

 _By PolarNegetiveZero_

This guy was in a hurry. It was so much, that I needed to push my damaged engine to its limits, getting us going around 20 kph, including the terrain and the difficulty navigating these tunnels. We were going for about ten minutes before we saw a change. A big change. The terrain had gone from dirt and stone to reinforced steel in about ten feet. It took us about a second to cross from dirt to steel, so I was actually surprised by this. It felt good to have some sort of reinforced material beneath my treads.

Scratch that, it was all around us now. Kind of strange, unless it was built before the Shell. This also made me nervous, as it was said that the Shell hit Russia pretty hard. "We are close. I ask you to quiet until I talk to guard, yes?" The SU-85 had rolled to a halt at this. I shrugged, and looked at Sig, who looked thoughtful, then shrugged and said "Fine. But you'd better not abandon us. We'll find you if you do." She threatened without words at that last part. Given her quirks that I've seen so far, that's not at all surprising.

I think she has a fear of being alone. Like me. I remember that some philosopher once said "Being alone is not the worst thing in the universe. Being in a crowd of people and still feeling alone, is." That sums up my condition, but Sig seemed to just not want to be alone. It seems weird, given that she's a natural leader. Perhaps something to do with her past…? I omitted a few things from mine, no reason she shouldn't do the same.

I revved my engine, and then eyed the fuel cans on the back of Sig. Maybe if I use my gun, I could snag one… She notices me, and says out loud "They're empty. And you're not touching my engine compartment without me telling you to." I felt like running my tracks until I drove right through the steel floor, then pulling the chunks on top of me. "That- That's not what I meant!" I stammered out, trying to recover from the off-putting comment that she'd made without warning.

"Relax. I was joking about my engine. But seriously, they're empty." She said looking a little nervous that she'd offended me. _See, Murphy, this is why you don't put two shy people in the same group without at least ONE tank acting as a buffer. Otherwise, you get no conversation!_ I heard the SU-85 rolling back, and I muttered at the same time "Saved by the Russian." He rounded the corner, with another tank behind him.

This was a KV-1S, now tier five and it had the 76mm gun. A dangerous opponent 1 on 1, but I could take him in these close quarters. "These are people I speak of, Flench. German and British tenk." He said to the other, speaking in English so we could understand what was being said. "Flench" shook his cannon barrel up and down, and then said "We can help these people, Scar. We have enough fuel and spare parts to help others." He spoke in fluent (Rather too much to be a straight Russian, if you ask me.) English, and then turned to us. "Follow me and Scar. We'll give you parts and fuel." I nodded my barrel up and down, but I still kept my wits about me.

This could be a really well-organized trap, so I needed to stay focused .But the promise of fuel and possibly grease made me daydream about what I would do once my engine was fixed and I had enough grease to have it leak out of my tanks. An unusual fantasy, but it was like a human starving without food and then getting to eat a three course meal.

Oh, right, we know what humans are. We just don't know much about them. How else do you think we got these phrases? Anyways, I was so deep in my daydream that I actually bumped into the rear end of the KV-1S. I focused my optics, and took in the sights. _A town that was underground. What else do you want to throw at me, Murphy? A freighter? Maybe a frigging biplane while you're at it?_ I was actually the least bit frustrated that these people could come together just like that.

It made me think about the squabbling and the mistrust that I used to have from other scavengers. Which made me feel angry on the inside because I couldn't have at least tried to do this with some other scavengers around me. But, now was not the time for memories. The town was actually pretty small. Two streets that were perpendicular to each other and crossed in the center. A two-story garage house that had the name "The rusty gun" on a sign out front, with the sign hanging from an old Tiger I 88 mm gun. _Oh, very funny, Murphy. Extremely funny._ Another building next to it was a fuel depot, along with a mechanic's garage with a TRV working inside, whistling a tune that I couldn't place and was too busy to try.

There were a few privately owned garages and what looked to be a gatehouse of sorts, along with a blockhouse build into the bottom of it. The one in front of us had already opened without me looking, and it had the same set up as our little convoy rolled into town. The blockhouse was placed on the East side, if you were looking at it from the side with the wall and the guard tower. The gate was on the west, and it swung outward, giving cover to the tanks opening it. Very smart, these guys. They had a similar set-up on the other side, and a ramp to get into the watchtower. On the other side, there was a Jagged-Panther with a personal can of fuel beside him, his front facing away from me. On our side, there was a KV-85 with the long 122 mm gun. The D-2-5T. The one that had the thingy at the end. I don't do good at explaining details of stuff, so find a photo of it yourself. I was finished looking over the place, and looked over at Flench.

"Hey, how much do I need to pay to get us some room and board? A fuel can come with it?" I asked him, trying to discern anything else from his response. "Costs about 2,000 silver per night, or twenty gold coins." He responded, rolling to the blockhouse, SU-85 beside him. "Look, it's been a long day for me, and I'll assume you guys to. Go talk to our Bergepanzer about getting fixed up, and go to the Rusty Gun and grab a fuel can and a room. I'll give you a proper welcome tomorrow." He looked tired, and so did his friend. I shrugged, and looked at Sig, who was still taking in the town.

"Seems kinda weird that they managed to set this all up underground, huh? Never would have found the place if it weren't for you." I said, trying to make her feel good about herself. What? I try to be nice to the people who I come across (When I'm not in a sourpuss mood, anyway) and I try to be polite. She blushed slightly, but took the praise lightly. "Well, how about getting fixed up? It's been a while since I've been cleaned." She said, taking a look at the TRV's shop longingly. I revved my engine in agreement, and started rolling towards the shop and its owner.

After having been fixed up and cleaned (And holy PISS did it feel good to be clean and running well again!) I drove over to the Rusty Gun's garage door, and pressed on the track button to open it for me. It slid open with a few squeaks, but it was well oiled, so it wasn't that bad. A few tanks were already in here, and looked up at us. I moved over to the obvious owner, sitting behind his counter-top made of some sort of stone (looked to be granite, wasn't sure). I said "We'll need a room. Not sure for how long, so I'll pay for ten days in advance." I slid the silver over the counter, and counted my war chest. I had about 150,000 silver left, and 84 gold In stock.

He counted the money, grunted, and tossed both me and Sig a fuel can, and she started drinking hungrily. Most of the folks had gone back to their conversations by this point, and I started rolling up the ramp, engine now thrumming with power. Sig sped to catch up, and raced me down the hallway, finding our garage and opening the door. I didn't take a look around, all I did was reverse my arse into the place, set my fuel can on my engine compartment, and fell asleep like a rock.

 _Murphy?_

…

 _Yeah, good night, ya sonuvabitch._

 **Well, this was less exposition, more of a filler for the next chapter. I'm actually already writing a rough draft for it, because I'm that excited for it. Also, and I seriously doubt it but it's a possibility, if you are a follower of this story, I lied. If I miss a day, then I'm sorry in advance and I'll say it again in the next upload, but sometimes, I just don't feel like writing.**

 **I feel like sleeping instead.**

 **Ciao.**


	6. Chapter 6: Situational Awareness

**Living on Borrowed Time**

Chapter Five: Situational Awareness

 _By PolarNegetiveZero_

Central Town, to be honest, was kind of cool to explore. I mean, the place was a bit small, but they were well-organized, almost a full-blown Clan. Sadly (And thankfully, in my case as a Scavenger) it was not to be a real Clan, but the Town Guard seemed to act a lot like one. I'm saying this to myself as I've still got my optics off and I'm trying to go back to sleep. It isn't working, so I might as well get up and finish my can of gas.

After having opened up my optics, I swung my turret around and grabbed the can, lifting it over to the fuel tank on my sides and opening them up, "drinking" it down. The can eventually dripped slightly, but for the most part, was empty. It tossed it into the small canister that we use as a garbage can, and looked over at Si-

Okay, she's not here.

Not sure if I should be panicking or only slightly concerned.

Well, she's her own Tank; I'll trust her not to do anything stupid. And, being honest, I never really had either the time or the will to have any sort of stable relationship with another tank. I once had a Clan that consisted of thirty male tanks and FIVE females' tanks. Now, if you've ever seen what I've seen, you wouldn't really care. But this Clan helped make a certain part of my feelings go numb and die.

They had the females as sex slaves, and did whatever they wanted with them. It was fucking horrid and I swear to god, if I ever see that again, I will load HE and fire it into someone's ammo-rack, because that was wrong on so many levels. But I think, deep down, I'm angrier with my past self for having not stopped it. I knew that it was wrong, and did nothing about it.

I took the ramp down to the first floor of The Rusty Gun, and looked around. It was empty except for a lone Flat-Panzer with the same top gun you get on the StuG III G. I ignored him, and rolled out of the door, intent on finding Flench and getting a tour. I rolled over to the TRV station, and knocked with my gun. I heard some grumbling, and then the garage door swung backwards, opened.

The Berge Panzer looked like hell, heavily coated in dirt and gas. I stared for naught but a moment, and said "Excuse me, do you know where I can find Flench? I need to talk with him about a tour of this place." My radio crackled a bit, but the sentence came out okay. The TRV gave me a look that said "I'm tired as fuck, go away" and slammed the garage door shut. I was a bit off-put by the behavior, but I could understand.

I rolled over to one of the blockhouses, the same one that we'd come in yesterday, and knocked on the steel-reinforced door, reversing about ten feet backwards and waiting. It took less than a second before an emergency light went green and the door swung outwards. I looked at it, shrugged my gun, and rolled inside.

Ah, so here's where Sig had gone. She was looking at me from across a table from Flench, who was looking at me as well. Both were equally curious as to my reasons, but obviously didn't want to be the one to bring it up first. I, being a scavenger, had an appreciation for subtlety that many Clanners didn't understand. Of course, I was unschooled in subliminal hate, so I hadn't noticed at the time that Flench looked like he'd also wanted me to be gone so he could continue what he was doing.

"Hey, Sig. Thanks for waking me up this morning. Hey Flench, I'm here to take you up on that offer from last night." I said all of this in about the span of four seconds, and I rolled on over to the table, turning off my engine so they could hear me without me having to use my radio, using my normal voice instead. I sounded like a British officer from World War One, but I wasn't complaining. It, to me, sounded pretty goddamn cool.

"Yeah, I'll set you an alarm using your own snores to wake you up, Jay. I almost didn't sleep last night because of you." He shot back at me, making me turn a bit red from the comment because I suspected it was true. I shrugged, and smiled back at her. "Part of the charm, you should know that after travelling a whole HOUR with me." She smiled back at me, and Flench looked at me with that "Oh, you're mister steal-your-grill" look. I think, at the time, he was jealous of me. I, being King Oblivious, didn't know that at the time, but looking back on it, I was a pretty blunt person.

At the time, I was too busy trying to get down to business to care about relationships. "So, Flench, when's the tour going to be?" I asked with a slight quirk of my gun from over the table in his direction. "Oh, I uh, was, umm, going to, well-"whilst he was sputtering about his words, I looked around the room. It was pretty clean, and there was a bulletin board, a group of shells with several types of ammunition on it, a bulletin board with rules and a duty roster, a dinner schedule for the month, and a barrel full of… Something black-ish, with little gray sparkles scattered about it. To this day, I have no idea what it was.

"Well, we were discussing if you should become citizens of the town for a short while, and take up guard duties before you showed up." Flench finally managed to get out without tripping over his words. Sig glanced over at him with a questioning looked, and I followed it to Flench, who looked at her and shook his gun barrel a bit. _Oh, please don't let this turn into a "love" triangle; I just wanted a friend, dude!_ "Well, if Sig's fine with it, then I'll hop aboard and help guard the place, but it seems pretty safe." The dude looked at me like I had grown a third turret and become a T-35 Russian invention. I looked right back at him, mocking him by mimicking his look.

He shook his head and said "Well, Ensighein, that answers your question. You two will be guarding on the floor with Scar in the tower above you on the west side tonight." I gave him a look that said 'Dude, little help here?' and he sighed, saying afterwards "On this side." I gave a shrug, and looked to Sig, who gave a nod, before Flench reversed from the table, and went up the ramp to the second floor of the tower-blockhouse-thingy.

"I don't get the feeling that everything is all fine and dandy here, Sig. I think these guys are in some hot shit that we don't know about. What do you think?"

She looked to me, and said with a steely look in her eye "If they're in need of help, then we'll help them. Okay?" She said, staring me in the optic. I didn't blink twice before I gave her a sort of lopsided grin and said "Oh, crazy lady, I like you!" She then realized her situation and blushed deeply. I gave a hearty laugh, and then hit the button by the door, hearing the low "BZZRT" of the alarm before the light went green and the door opened again. I rolled out, and then held it open for Sig while she rolled out. I then reversed and let it close with a loud CLANG! That echoed throughout the cavern.

Well, this'll be nice, wont it?

 **This took a while to get out due to my computer being dented and having my hard drive crack, but it'd here. My hard drive is currently still wired together, but the casing has cracked and it's been duct taped shut. (Red neck thinking: Does it move? Should it? Duct tape. Does it move? Should it? WD 40)**

 **Anyways, sorry for the long wait (I talk like I've got people waiting on me, haha why tumblr why)**

 **Have a good one!**


End file.
